


struck by you

by ketabat



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Bisexual Stevie Harrington, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fem!Harringrove, Fingering, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lesbian Billie Hargrove, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slut Shaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:27:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21780937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ketabat/pseuds/ketabat
Summary: “Don’t call me that,” Stevie answers reflexively. “It’s Stevie. Harrington for you since we’re not on a first name basis.”Billie’s grin is smug. Sharp and pretty on her cherry-red lips. “Really thought you were a prissy miss prim when I first saw you,” she says. Then she chucks Stevie under the chin. “You’re real tough, huh princess?”or, billie likes annoying stevie and stevie lowkey likes being annoyed by billie.
Relationships: Billie Hargrove/Stevie Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 20
Kudos: 278





	struck by you

**Author's Note:**

> *taps mic*  
> *leans in till my lips brush the mic*  
> fem harringrove rights! :D 
> 
> fic title taken from [this song](https://youtu.be/evDYO54uaTI)
> 
> unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine! :)

Living in a small town like Hawkins means living in a sexist community. It means going to a school where they hire as few women as possible. Which means most teachers are men, thus, Billie Hargrove has the school wrapped around her red-clawed pinkie finger.

In all honesty, anyone who dressed as provocatively as Billie does has the same authority over teachers as the principal running the school. And like… Stevie’s _modest_. She comes from a proper family, a very high-class family that values propriety above everything. And propriety meant ankle length skirts and lowering your gaze when someone older addresses you.

Billie… Billie on the other hand never turns down the chance to get what she wants using her body.

Like she’s doing right now.

“I’m ninety-nine-point nine percent sure I didn’t receive your paper, Ms. Hargrove,” the teacher’s saying, sweating through his attempt at professionalism as he looks through his papers.

Billie laughs. It sounds rough and husky. It sounds _good_ and Stevie can’t help but look up from her book to watch the exchange. To watch the way Billie gets her way. “And what about the remaining point one, _sir?_ ” Billie asks, voice dropping low. She places her hands flat on the desk separating them and leans forward, no doubt putting her cleavage on view. The teacher clears his throat and chances a glance around the mostly empty library.

“Ms. Hargrove–”

“Billie,” Billie interrupts.

“Billie,” the teacher rephrases, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I’m sure you haven’t handed it over. However,” he nods once. “I can give you till the end of this week.”

“Now we’re talkin’!” Billie grins. She blows him a kiss and stands up straight, looks around briefly before her eyes land squarely on Stevie. _Shit_. Stevie quickly looks down, back at her books, reading without comprehending as her cheeks turn hot.

She doesn’t look up until Billie sits, throwing herself down in the spot beside her with a sigh. Billie grins, unzipping her leather jacket all the way down to grasp her bra cups in two hands, adjusting her breasts. “Old fucks would do anythin’ for some jerkoff material,” she says casually, then zips her jacket back up and looks over at Stevie with a lazy smile. “The things we do for an extra grade, huh, Stevie?”

Stevie shrugs. No, not _huh_. Stevie would never do the shit Billie does for the sake of good grades. No matter how dumb she can be. “I guess,” she says instead, because she doesn’t want to start anything by saying what’s truly on her mind.

“N’aww, you guess?” Billie tilts her head, pouting in a deriding way that makes Stevie want to sink down in her seat. “Your parents handle all your little fuckups for you, hm?” and like – Billie’s reaching up, brushing Stevie’s hair away from her forehead with a pointed red nail.

Stevie licks over her lips and looks back at her book. “Not really. I just write down the date a paper’s due, so I don’t have to, y’know… strip for my teachers.”

She expects Billie to be offended, or at least to be struck to silence for a second before snarling something sharp at her. But Billie just laughs, it’s soft and breathless and it makes Stevie bite her lip because it sounds _hot_. And you see, Stevie _knows_ that her eyes linger on girls longer than they should, that she admires the softness of their features and the bareness of their jaws. She knows that when she watches cheap pornos in her bedroom when her parents aren’t home, her eyes stray to the girl’s expression as she reaches her climax. She’s known for a while that although she likes guys, she’s into girls a little more. It’s something she refuses to admit to anyone but herself and her small circle of friends. “Feisty, baby girl,” Billie runs her fingers through Stevie’s shoulder length hair, nails scraping over her scalp.

“Don’t call me that,” Stevie answers reflexively. “It’s Stevie. Harrington for you since we’re not on a first name basis.”

Billie’s grin is smug. Sharp and pretty on her cherry-red lips. “Really thought you were a prissy miss prim when I first saw you,” she says. Then she chucks Stevie under the chin. “You’re real tough, huh princess?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Stevie replies, jutting her chin. “Don’t you have a teacher to seduce?” she asks. And Billie’s eyes harden for just a second before she’s standing up. Stevie licks her thumb and turns the page, acting attentive to whatever’s written in there.

“Y’know what happens to things I can’t bend, Harrington?” Billie asks. She doesn’t wait for Stevie’s answer, leaning down till her lips are brushing Stevie’s ear. She takes her time drawling out her next sentence. “I _break_ them.”

...

Billie doesn’t waste any time turning Stevie’s life to a living hell.

She keys her car, something that Stevie easily fixes materialistically, but finds a little more difficulty trying to act nonchalant about it. She stays silent though. Wants to be the bigger person.

In art class, Billie spills paint on Stevie’s drawing, hisses apologetically and licks a finger before smudging it all over. “Aw fuck,” she says, feigning guilt. “I’m sure your parents can figure something out, princess.”

Stevie takes a deep, calming breath and smiles. “It’s no problem.”

She sees Billie smirk from the corner of her eye.

Billie steals her part in the school play using her breasts. And like, Stevie’s mad. She’s discouraged and pissed off, but she’s mature. She’s fucking mature and she won’t let Billie get to her, so she fucking takes the part of Nerissa instead of Portia. She tries to ignore how Billie doesn’t even know her lines and how she didn’t practice half as many times as she did in front of the mirror.

...

“Haven’t given up, princess?”

Stevie’s sitting at her table alone, distractedly moving her food around her plate. She looks up when Billie speaks, trying to keep her anger in check. “Given up _what?_ ” she asks. “What did I even _do_ for you to hate me so much?”

Billie’s smile falls. It’s a quick drop, makes Stevie shake her head and look back down at her food.

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart,” Billie tuts her tongue. “ _Hate_ is quite the heavy word, don’t ya think?”

Stevie breathes out heavily from her nose, curbing her scowl. “No. I have no problem hating you. Trust me.”

Billie snorts.

“Shouldn’t you go back to my— I mean _your_ friends?” Stevie asks. She doesn’t care about them to be frank, they weren’t nearly as close as she was to Robin, Carol, and Tommy. But she still has the right to be _annoyed_.

Billie shrugs. “They don’t care whose minions they are as long as they’re havin’ fun, y’know. Don’t take it personally, they’re just goin’ for the highest bidder,” she says, then she sits down opposite of Stevie. “You mad at me, bambi?”

“You _stole_ my _part,_ ” Stevie hisses, not wanting to pay the pet name too much mind, because she knows if she dwells on it, she’ll end up forgetting why she was mad in the first place. Billie has that effect.

“Take it up with Shakespeare, love,” Billie quips. “Rattlin’ your cage was fun and all but let’s act like civil young ladies—”

“Oh, shut _up,_ ” Stevie interjects. “ _You’re_ the one who’s been acting like a bitch.”

Billie lifts a brow, then pushes all her curls to one side and leans a little closer, fingers interlaced and thumbs twiddling. “Are you always this bratty?” She asks into the space between them. Thing is, she sounds _fond_ more than critical, and it makes Stevie glance away and lick her mouth before it betrays her with a smile because yeah, Billie annoys the ever loving hell out of her, but there’s an underlying benign nature to her — friendly, even.

“Yes,” she answers. “Yeah. I am. Especially to people who always wanna lock horns with me because they’re jealous of me.”

Billie doesn’t react for a second, looking blandly at Stevie before a small, breathy chuckle leaves her maroon-painted lips. Followed by a higher one. Stevie doesn’t like the attention she’s drawing to her table. “Jealous?” Billie echoes. “You think I’m _jealous_ of you?”

“There’s no other explanation,” Stevie shrugs. She takes a bite of her apple, acting indifferent as Billie eyes her.

“Isn’t there?” Billie eventually asks. Her eyes are tracing the apple juice trickling down Stevie’s chin. It makes Stevie’s heart race, hand clenching around the apple until her nails are digging shallow crescents in it.

“I don’t know, Hargrove. You tell me,” Stevie answers, avoiding eye contact as she takes a hold of her Coca Cola.

Billie shrugs, reaching for Stevie’s plate and nicking a fry. “Hm. I dunno, baby girl. Maybe I just get off on tormenting you.”

Stevie huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “Sure.”

Billie smirks. It’s gentler than usual. She sucks her teeth and looks away. “I need a smoke,” she says, pushing her seat back. “I’ll be seeing you later, princess.”

...

The girls’ basketball team is a dying breed. Well, it was. Until Billie arrived and spiced things up. She’s aggressive on court, channels all of her being into the game even if the coach doesn’t give the girls’ team half as much attention as he gives the boys’ team. She’s passionate. It’s obvious in her tired smile when she’s buying time while dribbling the ball under her leg. She’s _fierce_.

And like, Billie isn’t shy. She’s confident and anyone who so much as _glances_ her way knows she has every right to be. Nothing stops her from stripping down to nothing in the dressing rooms. And oddly, nothing stops Stevie from looking over at her, casual glances that aren’t so furtive because Billie catches her eye every time. And well, Billie’s gorgeous. It’s not news, but there’s something about seeing her hop into her Lee jeans that makes her look _cute._ Stevie’s eye catches a bruise on her neck, spreading down to her shoulders, and Stevie’s sure no one roughed her up on court. No one dared to. “You good?”

Billie looks over at her as she pushes her arms through the straps of her lace bra. “I’m not the one who got knocked over fifty times, baby girl.”

She’s breathless as she speaks, her curls wet and dripping, lips thin without the hooker make up she puts on and eyes gentle without the heavy smudged eyeliner she usually sports. And the nickname paired with Billie’s general look makes a flame lick low in Stevie’s gut.

She only has her socks on and the floor’s wet from the showers, so it’s icky when she walks over to Billie and takes a gentle hold of her arm, coaxing her into facing her. The bruises are dark, undoubtedly fresh. “Who did this to you?”

“Some dude sexed me up last night. We played a little rough,” Billie winks, clicking her tongue.

“Oh,” Stevie rasps. “I.. I didn’t know you were into..”

“Choking?” Billie offers, smile tenuous.

“Guys,” Stevie corrects.

Billie’s laugh is throaty when she tips her head back. It dies down quick and she turns her back to Stevie. “Clasp me up, princess,” she says. And Stevie — Stevie does. She lifts her hands and delicately hooks her bra, her lips pressing together when the back of her fingers brush Billie’s unblemished tan skin. She hesitates, just for a second. But Stevie’s _bold_. Always has been. There’s a simple tribal tattoo at the small of Billie’s back. Stevie knows touching it won’t make Billie uncomfortable, but she decides against it just in case. Instead, her fingertips trace the crow tattoo on her left shoulder blade.

“You stuck back there, Harrington?” Billie sounds shaky as she goes for playful. She pulls her hair aside to give Stevie better access.

“Crows. Y’know what they symbolize?”

Stevie grins. “Mischief,” she answers. “Suiting.”

“You’ve done your homework,” Billie turns around, and there’s something about seeing her bare face up close that knocks the air out of Stevie’s lungs.

Billie lifts her own hands and does Stevie’s buttons up slowly, humming a tune under her breath. “All the way up like the good Catholic girl you are, hm, baby?”

And Stevie lets out a shuddering breath, making Billie’s hands still just beneath her chin. “What is it?” She asks. “Protestant?”

Stevie huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “No— no. Just—” she shrugs. “You’re gentle.” _Gentler than I expected._

Billie chuckles. “Yeah. I’m a _girl._ We have to be gentle and dainty, hm?” Billie does Stevie’s last button and pats her chest lightly. It’s soft. Makes Stevie melt a little.

And like, they’re standing in the empty dressing room, Billie in her unbuttoned and zipped down jeans and bra and Stevie in her skirt and shirt and it looks wrong. It looks so wrong but feels so fucking right Stevie wants to _cry._ “Sorry,” she says suddenly.

Billie tilts a scarred brow. “For?”

“Slut shaming you,” Stevie answers in a breath. “Shouldn’t have. It’s— your body.”

Billie tuts her tongue, brushing the tip of her forefinger just under Stevie’s chin. “Don’t worry, baby girl. I’ve got a thick hide.”

Stevie nods. “Yeah. Right.”

Billie grabs her leather jacket and makes for the exit but comes to an abrupt stop. Then she turns around. “Stevie?”

“Yeah?” Stevie tucks away how her name sounds of Billie’s sinful mouth for later dwelling.

“You’d make quite the fuckin’ Portia.”

Stevie feels the last vestiges of anger about Billie stealing her role simmer a little. “Yeah. Some bitch took my role though.”

She hears Billie’s loud howl of laughter echo down the hall.

...

Stevie’s rounding the school building, rummaging through her bag before she comes to an abrupt stop when she realizes someone’s already there. _Billie._

She’s smoking, head tilted back and resting against the brick wall.

And like. There’s something about the confidence Billie carries herself with that drives Stevie a little bit crazy.

Something about the way she climbs out of her car while pulling her aviators off, and the way she leans against it when she’s waiting for Maxine. But the way she _smokes_ is something otherworldly. Stevie’s dad smokes and it’s gross. Smoking is gross. But Billie makes it seem like fucking _art._

“Oh,” she says on a breath. “Didn’t know there was someone here.”

Billie looks over at her, lifting a perfectly plucked brow. “Don’t tell me little miss sunshine’s ditching class?”

Stevie glares. “Where did you get the idea that I can’t do something bad every once in a while?” She snaps.

Billie laughs, smoke leaving her lips as she looks Stevie over. “I don’t know, darling,” she starts. “Maybe how you think _ditching class_ is _bad_?”

Stevie scowls. Because. Well. Fair.

But then she pulls out her flask and fucking _revels_ in the surprise that crosses Billie’s features as she blinks twice in a row. “I take that back, princess,” she says, beckoning her closer with two fingers. “Gimme that. What is it? Holy water?”

Stevie rolls her eyes, but hands her the flask and leans back against the wall next to her, tucking her hair behind both ears. She hears Billie sniff, then hum her approval. “There’s somethin’ oddly sexy about a strait-laced bitch walkin’ around with alcohol in her bag,” she murmurs, taking a swig. She hands it back to Stevie and puffs on her cigarette.

“Uh. Sharing is caring?” Stevie asks, arching her brow at the coffin nail between Billie’s black-tipped fingers.

Billie hums. “I’m not a carer,” she murmurs. It’s playful and obviously a joke because Billie’s pushing herself off the wall and crowding Stevie against it. And Stevie stares at her. At her soft features when she doesn’t hone them with meanness, at her tilted smile. At the way she leans in and whispers, “open up, princess.”

And Stevie doesn’t even think twice. She parts her lips and Billie takes a drag of her cig, cerulean eyes dropping to Stevie’s mouth as she leans forward and lets her lips hover over Stevie’s. She breathes the smoke into her mouth. And Stevie—

Chokes.

She chokes on the inhalation and makes Billie step back with a cackle of laughter as she tries to compose herself, eyes watering. “You’re cute when you try, baby girl,” Billie says, cigarette wagging between her lips. She boops her nose like she’s some _kid._

And out of all the things Billie’s been doing to annoy her, this annoys her the most. Fuck Portia and fuck her car getting keyed, because the fury that overtakes her when Billie makes her feel _inexperienced_ overrides it all. And Stevie’s never been the smartest at bearing consequences in mind. She just _acts._ She’s impulsive and rash and she’s dragging Billie in by the jacket and muffling her _watch the leather_ with her _mouth._ She kisses her. She _kisses_ her.

And she fucking _savors_ the way Billie tenses before a surprised moan vibrates against her mouth. Before— Before Billie’s kissing _back,_ bunching a hand in Stevie’s hair and tilting her head just right to get a deeper angle, and she’s drawing Stevie’s lip between her teeth and plastering their fronts together and Stevie’s legs are about to give in.

Billie’s a _goddess._

And Stevie can’t _stop._ The more she _takes_ the more she fucking _wants._ And she’s pulling Billie closer, can hear her nails tearing into the leather of her jacket and Billie doesn’t _care._ She’s biting her lip and running her hands down from her hair to cup her neck and lick deeper into her mouth. She tastes of lipstick and Marlboro reds and the whiskey she’d just chugged from Stevie’s flask and it all clusters and forms the taste of Billie Hargrove. It’s addictive.

Billie pulls back, has Stevie chasing her lips for a second. They both check their surroundings, making sure no one saw.

It’s unfair, how fucking _good_ Billie looks with smudged lipstick on her mouth, the flush on her cheeks, jacket hanging askew on her body, the overall _dishevelled_ look. And Stevie knows Billie’s thinking the same thing while looking _her_ over. She knows she looks just as fucked out, with lipstick smeared on her mouth and messy hair surrounding her florid face. “Fuck,” Billie whispers, eyes meeting hers.

“Yeah,” Stevie takes a deep breath to pull herself together and bends down to grab her bag. “There’s something oddly sexy about a strait-laced bitch walking around with alcohol in her bag, huh?”

And she walks off, digging her nails into her palms to hold back from giving Billie the satisfaction of a glance over her shoulder.

...

“You _kissed her?!_ ” Robin hisses. “No. No. Wait. _You_ kissed _her?_ ”

Stevie buries her face in her hands. “Yeah. I kissed her.”

“Haha!” Tommy laughs out. He extends a hand and snatches a bill from Robin’s firm grip. “Told you!”

“You— You bet on me? Seriously?” Stevie looks downright betrayed.

“Gotta make a living _somehow,_ ” Tommy grins. He’s an asshole. Robin’s an asshole. Carol, who’s nowhere in sight, is an _asshole._ Stevie loves them anyway.

“Anyway. What happened after that?” Robin asks, leaning forward in interest.

Stevie pushes her fringe back and opens her mouth to say _I threw her words back at her,_ but the sound of a chair’s legs scraping across the marble floor as Billie rises from her seat stops her. Her eyes are fixed on her, and it’s like she stole all her coherency with a simple _glance_. Stevie clears her throat and looks at her food. “She’s coming our way, act normal.”

Billie stops at their table, sits on the edge with her back to Tommy and Robin as she eyes Stevie. “You disappeared on me,” she says, casually, like her tongue wasn’t down Stevie’s throat two hours ago.

“Yeah. Uh. I was busy,” Stevie shrugs.

“Mm,” Billie tilts her head. “I wanted to ask you somethin’. Since you’re failin’ bio—”

“I’m not _failing bio,_ ” Stevie cuts in, getting defensive. It draws a laugh out of Billie.

“You sure? I do recall an F, sweetheart.”

Robin and Tommy stifle their laughter behind their hands as Carol takes a seat between them.

“Yeah. Well we don’t all have magical breasts to get a good grade,” Stevie snaps back.

Billie tuts her tongue. “Hey, now. Play nice,” she murmurs. “These babies didn’t play a role in my A,” she goes on. “Just thought I’d ask you if you need help.”

Stevie lags, looking up at her with wide brown eyes. “What?”

“I could help you,” Billie repeats. “I’m told I’m a good tutor.”

Stevie licks her lips, sees the way Billie’s eyes drop down to them. “Um— okay. Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Billie grins. “Let’s say tonight? Your place?”

Stevie can hear Carol whispering a, “What did I miss?” but she pointedly ignores it.

“Ok. I’ll see you then.”

The second Billie’s out of hearing range, Carol turns to Stevie. “Did you just get yourself a sex date with Billie Hargrove?” She asks, taking a sip of her drink.

“What?” Stevie furrows her brows. “No. We’re just gonna study.”

 _“Human anatomy,”_ Tommy whispers into Carol’s ear. A stage whisper that has Robin snorting. “Maybe they’ll make it a little interactive. Embedding info and all.”

Stevie groans. “You’re all fucking gross.”

“And _you,_ my friend, are getting _laiiid,_ ” Robin sings.

...

Stevie’s pretty. With round brown eyes and soft plump lips and round cheeks that become prominent when she smiles. She _knows_ she’s pretty. But Billie’s presence intimidates her, makes her feel like she should try harder. And it’s not insecurity. It’s just a need to please. And well, Stevie’s come to terms with how much she actually _wants_ Billie. And she feels like maybe Billie wants her just as much, but that doesn’t exactly stop her from dolling up just a little bit. A barely noticeable bit. Even if it’s a study night in. She ties her hair up into the messiest bun to date and applies as little as possible lip gloss because-

_Fuck._

It really is a date, isn’t it?

Or maybe she’s reading too much into it. She hopes she gets to have another taste of Billie’s mouth but she finds that she doesn’t _mind_ it if she doesn’t. Because, believe it or not, she enjoys Billie’s company a little more than she expected herself to.

The house is warm, always is in autumn since the heating systems are on around the clock. So Stevie stays in her pyjama shorts and cami, just covers them with a robe that falls just above her knees when the bell rings.

And she’s getting used to the butterflies in her belly when she sees Billie.

Billie looks her over in a way that has her nearly _aching_ with desire. She’s not wearing a leather jacket, just a red shirt that’s unbuttoned to her navel. Stevie might as well die right now.

“Hey. Come in,” she says, attempting to sound put-together. She opens the door wider to let her in.

“Nice place you’ve got here, babe,” Billie says, surveying the place with an impressed smile.

“Thanks. Um- my room?”

“Eager,” Billie turns to her smugly. “Do show me your chambers, princess,” she bows, holding an arm out in a _ladies first_ fashion that makes Stevie roll her eyes.

Billie looks good on her purple covers, her curls fanning on the pillow. And yeah, she’s still in her leather boots but it’s—

Fuck, it’s _hot._ It’s so hot.

“Comfy,” Billie sighs. “Damn, Harrington. You’re spoilt rotten.”

Stevie just stands at the door, running a hand up and down her arm.

“Ok. Get your ass over here, we have some studying to do.”

 _Studying._ Wait till Robin and co find out they were studying all night.

And they _do_ study. Billie laughs at Stevie’s silly questions and bumps her shoulder into hers while telling her she’s _just teasing_. They snack. Stevie takes Billie on a tour around her house, and Billie specially loves her father’s office. She sits down in his seat and lifts her leather-clad feet onto the desk with one of his Gurkha cigars between her lips and she plays his role pretty well for someone who doesn’t know him. They go back to Stevie’s room to revise genetics.

“Your folks coming home any time soon?” Billie eventually asks.

“No,” Stevie answers. “Not for another… I don’t know, three, four weeks?”

Billie’s expression turns _soft._ It makes Stevie melt like fucking _gallium_. “C’mere,” Billie holds a hand out, and when Stevie grasps it, she pulls her closer and onto her lap. It’s— perfect. Warm. She’s so used to the smell of detergent and her own perfume that the smell of Billie surrounding her is a welcome breath of fresh air. “This okay?” Billie whispers.

“Hm,” Stevie rests her forehead on Billie’s shoulder as Billie reaches for her hair and pulls the scrunchie out. She runs her fingers through it, whispers a low _someone should be taking care of you_ in her ear and it’s _not_ suggestive or even _sexual._ But Stevie can feel herself get _wet._ It’s embarrassing how fast she can get her going.

The belt of her robe’s loosened itself by now, and when Billie shifts a little, Stevie tenses, breath hitching.

Billie stills for a second, then laughs a harsh-sounding breath out because she _knows_. “You okay there?” She asks quietly. “Comfortable?”

“Fuck off,” Stevie answers. Weak and low and short-winded with arousal.

Billie bunches her hand in her hair, not _roughly_ but hard enough to pull her head back and look at her. To lean up and kiss her. Stevie groans and sits up to deepen it. She grips Billie’s curls tightly and kisses her like she wants to _devour her._

Billie isn’t complaining.

Then she’s moving her hips, grinding against her leg like a _whore._ It makes Billie laugh into their kiss and nip at Stevie’s bottom lip before pulling back. “You wet?”

Stevie moans. “Yeah. Yeah. Please—”

And Billie pushes her back, something that wouldn’t have worked as well if they weren’t on Stevie’s queen sized bed. She climbs between her legs and leans down to kiss her again. And Stevie keens, lifting her hips, grasping Billie’s face in both hands. “Billie—”

“Hm?” Billie pulls back. “What is it, baby girl? Too fast for you?”

Stevie swallows, catching her breath. “No, uh—” she takes a hold on Billie’s hand and moves it down between her own thighs. “Need you to-”

Billie takes a deep breath and closes her eyes like she’s trying to _control herself._ Like Stevie doesn’t want her to fuck her in every position without restraint. “Need me to what?”

Stevie swallows when Billie runs a finger up her wetness through the cloth of her shorts. “Need me to _what,_ princess?”

Stevie lifts her hips, chasing the feel. “Finger me.”

Billie chuckles at the choice of words. “Yeah? What if I don’t wanna?”

“You _cut your nails_ ,” Stevie snaps.

It makes Billie nuzzle her neck, exhaling another laugh. “Such a brat. I have to have short nails,” she says softly. “I play the guitar now, babe.”

Stevie groans.

“Fingerstyle,” Billie elaborates, pressing a soft kiss to her neck, _just_ to tease her. Stevie takes a hold of her hair and presses her closer. And Billie’s a _giver._ She mouths at her neck, tastes the vanilla flavored body spray on her. Her teeth scrape over her pulse and Stevie whimpers low in her throat.

Billie grins against her skin. “Can I mark you up, princess?” She asks quietly, swiping her tongue over the two beauty spots under her jaw.

Stevie breathes out a positive and lazily runs her fingers through Billie’s hair as she sucks bruises into her neck, chest heaving with how turned on she is.

Then Billie gets off her, leaving the space between her legs empty and Stevie could actually _cry_ with how much she wants her back on top of her.

Billie sits back against the headboard and parts her own jeaned legs. “Come on, I ain’t got all night.”

And Stevie crawls over to her, leans against her, back pressed to Billie’s chest. And Billie undoes her robe all the way and opens it. It’s all so _casual._ Stevie wants to come so bad.

“You’ve done this before,” she says. She’s jealous. And she shouldn’t be. Billie isn’t her anything and she’s allowed to have experience and—

“Of course I have,” Billie responds, pulling Stevie’s cami up till it’s bunched under her armpits. She brushes her fingertips over Stevie’s stomach, enjoying the way the muscle tenses beneath her touch. Then her hand roams further up and she brushes a nipple with her thumb, making Stevie arch under the ministrations with a breathless laugh, like she _can’t believe how good it feels._ “Jealous?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Stevie says through gritted teeth, tilting her head back and nosing at Billie’s neck. She can feel the vibration of Billie’s laugh against her lips as she circles her nipple before tweaking it softly.

“I got myself a possessive one, huh?” she murmurs, tilting her head to peck Stevie’s moan off her pretty lips. “Pull your shorts down, baby, let me see you.”

Stevie pulls her shorts down till they’re stuck at her knees and just— parts her legs. She’s not wearing anything underneath and that draws a pleased hum from the blonde. “You shave yourself for me?”

Stevie chokes on a moan. Fuck. Fuck. She _had_ shaved, just not for anyone but herself.

Billie kisses her temple, reaching down between Stevie’s legs to slap her pussy gently. “Look at you,” she whispers sweetly into her ear. “Do you touch yourself on this bed?”

“Mmh,” Stevie nods, running her feet down the sheets so hard they burn.

Then Billie _cups_ her, rubbing a thumb over her clit. “Remember wanting to fuck you since I first saw you.”

“Billie—” Stevie whispers, canting her hips. “Don’t— Don’t make—”

“You can’t even fucking _talk,_ ” Billie sighs, nibbling at Stevie’s ear. “And I haven’t started.”

“Don’t make me cum,” Stevie tilts her head, buries her face in Billie’s neck. “I’ll make a mess.”

Billie stays silent for a second, hand stilling against her until the statement settles in and— oh. _oh._ “You squirt easily, baby girl?”

“Mmh,” Stevie nods jerkingly. “Hm. Yeah. Hard to hold back.”

“Oh fuck,” Billie sounds about as fucked out as Stevie feels. “Oh, fuck. Who said I want you to hold back?”

Stevie reaches down and grasps Billie’s hand, moving it slowly, because she’s a fucking _brat._ Can’t even wait. And Billie _likes it._ She likes her so much it hurts a little.

“You’re so _wet,_ baby,” she says softly. “So wet for me, I can easily—” she slides her middle finger inside her. Stevie nearly _screams._ “Yeah- Yeah, that’s it, that’s it—” Billie pumps it in and out slowly, thumb working in circles against her clit. “Want me to get my mouth on you next time?” She asks.

 _Next time._ Fuck, _yes._

“Wanna ride my face?” She’s working a second finger inside. “Hm? Tell me.”

“Wanna—” Stevie groans as Billie scissors her fingers. “Wanna eat you out, Billie—”

Billie swallows, pulling her closer.

“Yeah?”

“Wanna—” Stevie writhes once Billie reaches the spot inside her that drives her _feral._ She arches her back and cries out like a damn _prostitute_ as she tangles her fingers in Billie’s hair and _pulls_ and Billie can’t— “wanna _taste_ your cunt—”

Billie exhales a low _fuck_. She’s got a filthy fucking mouth. Almost had her fooled.

“Shh,” she whispers when Stevie tries elaborating on her dirty schemes. “Stop talking. Just _feel,_ ” she pushes a third finger inside. “So tight, baby. So fucking tight,” she’s rubbing her g spot with such precision that Stevie holds her breath.

Then her chest’s heaving, mouth parted obscenely around breathless calls of Billie’s name. “So close—”

“Yeah?” Billie moves her fingers deeper, adamant on _ruining her_. “Come on, baby girl. Come for me.”

And Stevie _follows commands._ Her body draws taut and she’s coming with a loud cry of Billie’s name. Billie doesn’t relent, moving her fingers faster until Stevie tenses, hips moving on their own volition until she’s _squirting_ all over her hand and on the bed sheets. And her fucking _Biology book_. “That’s it,” Billie drawls against her ear. “Good girl. So good for me, hm?”

Stevie sags against her, chest rising and falling breathlessly. Billie pulls her fingers out of her, runs them through the mess she’s made before lifting her hand to her mouth, running her tongue flatly over her palm. Stevie groans. “Gross,” she doesn’t _sound_ grossed out though.

“Not really,” Billie grins, wiping her hand on her jeans before pulling Stevie’s cami down, making sure to brush the back of her fingers over her milky skin. “How you feelin’?”

“Good,” Stevie answers carefully, hand loosening on Billie’s curls. She presses her legs back together. Like the _good Catholic lady she is._

“Just good? Damn, should I be offended?”

Stevie laughs, tilting her head and pulling her down into a sloppy kiss. “Don’t get cocky,” a pause, then, “want me to…?”

“Maybe next time,” Billie kisses her again. and again. “You owe me a new book.”

Stevie flushes a deep shade of red. “Sorry.”

“You’re not,” Billie buries her face in Stevie’s hair.

Stevie closes her eyes. “No. Not really.”

...

It’s— guilt. Maybe guilt. Stevie isn’t sure. It’s like when she was a kid and hungry, how she’d steal something from the treat drawer and enjoy it while it lasted then feel bad about ever stealing it.

She doesn’t regret _Billie._ She regrets— giving her hope. Giving herself hope that they can be _anything._ When the truth is, they can’t. They never can. Not in a place like _Hawkins._ Not when Stevie comes from a high-class family that would _disown her_ if they knew she was writhing to completion in the arms of a _girl_.

She avoids Billie for two weeks. Two whole weeks. Billie tries cornering her three times in the first week before she gives up and doesn’t even _glance her way_ whenever they’re in the same vicinity.

“Ok, what’s going on with you?” Robin asks.

Carol elbows her roughly. “We said we’ll plan a girls night in, you bitch!”

“I lost my patience,” Robin hisses back, like Stevie isn’t sitting right there. Then she turns back to Stevie. “Tommy isn’t here and we’re all girls. Tell us.”

“Nothing’s going on,” Stevie shrugs into her hand mirror as she applies her lip gloss. “Parents are coming home next week and I’m stressed.”

“A-ha,” Carol snorts. “Last time your parents arrived in town, you were hungover and the house was a _mess_ from the party you threw the night before.”

Stevie doesn’t deign to respond to that.

“And you’ve been weird for like, two weeks. Ever since…” Robin trails off, piecing everything together. Then, “Oh my god. You got laid!” She points an accusatory finger at her.

Stevie slams the mirror onto the table and glares at her. “Can you not publicize my sex life to the whole school?” She snaps.

“I don’t know about you, Rob,” Carol starts casually, leaning into Robin’s ear as she eyes Stevie. “But I like bitchy Stevie more than I should.”

Robin smirks. “It’s as if Billie’s been…” she hums, acting pensive, “ _rubbing off on her._ ”

“In more ways than one,” Carol teases.

If looks could kill, they’d both be dead by now. “Fine,” Stevie heaves, because she’s _mature._ She tucks her hair behind both ears and straightens her back. “We studied then she finger-fucked me. That what you want me to say?”

She takes satisfaction in the way Robin chokes on her drink and the way Carol’s eyes go wide.

“Didn’t need that image!” Carol says, the same time Robin says, “details!”

“And now I feel like I’ve, lead her on or something,” Stevie sighs. “I’ve been avoiding her— since it happened.”

“Why?” Robin asks, seeming genuinely serious now.

“You _know_ why,” Stevie answers. “My parents would perform an exorcism to drive the evil lesbian spirit out of me if they find out.”

Carol snorts, then covers her mouth. “Sorry.”

“Who said your parents have to know? They’re barely around anyway,” Robin says.

“Do they even remember your name?” Carol asks, earning a glare from both of them. She lifts her hands in defence. “Just saying.”

“I don’t know,” Stevie says under her breath. “I don’t know— if she’d _want that._ ”

“Do _you_ want it?” Robin asks. “Do you like her?”

Stevie falters, burying her face in her hands. She doesn’t know Billie well enough to know the answer to that. But— But she wants to get to know her and figure it out.

Robin and Carol simultaneously take a hold on her hands, one each. “Talk to her,” Robin says.

“And then send her our way so we can give her the shovel talk,” Carol adds, tone just as soft as Robin’s.

Stevie laughs. “Why am I friends with you guys?”

...

“Can we talk?”

Billie looks up from _Jane Eyre_ to lift a brow at her. “Done shunning me, princess?” Her tone lacks the playful bite.

Stevie swallows and swipes her tongue over her lips. “Can I sit down?”

Billie’s leather boot pushes against the chair opposite her. A hostile invitation.

Stevie sits down and looks at her. “If you don’t want to talk, I could go,” she says, annoyed when Billie doesn’t put the book down.

“I’m listening,” Billie answers. “Say what you have to say.”

The way she says it makes it sound like _reject me and get it over with._

“I’m sorry about what happened,” Stevie says on a breath.

“You didn’t seem sorry when you were fucking yourself on my fingers,” Billie retorts, licking her finger and turning the page.

Stevie flushes. Wishes she wasn’t wearing the tight jeans she’d gone for today. “Not about— Not about _that,_ ” she mumbles the last word. “Can you just look at me for one second?”

Billie slams the book shut, sound echoing in the empty library, and looks up at Stevie. “What, Stevie?” She asks. “I know the drill. You were curious about girls, you got your rocks off, realized you’re not into girls and now you want me to fuck off. My lips are sealed! You can _go!_ ”

Stevie opens her mouth, then closes it. Because there’s so much wrong in what Billie just said that she doesn’t even know where to begin.

“Cat got your tongue?” Billie asks meanly.

“I—” Stevie swallows. “No. Um. I’ve— liked girls for as long as I can remember.”

Billie blinks, not expecting that. And not expecting the softness of Stevie’s tone as she says it.

“I like _you._ ”

“Yeah. That was obvious by the way you’ve been avoiding me like the fucking plague,” Billie smirks a little, in a cheeky way that makes Stevie sigh.

“My parents aren’t the best, Billie,” she states. “They wouldn’t _accept_ us. Or me. They have this whole _plan_ for me and if— if we get together— if that’s what you want, it’ll have to be a secret and that’s not— it’s not _fair_ to you.”

Billie shakes her head with a laugh, bitter and humorless. “You think I have it easy, don’t you?” She asks. “You think cause my parents aren’t some high-class bigots I have it easier?”

“No—”

“My _mom_ left when I was a kid,” Billie states. “Dad used to beat her and naturally, as an only child, all his anger turned on me.”

Stevie’s breath hitches.

“You think dressing like this, looking like this, fucking _talking_ like this doesn’t _cost me?_ ” Billie snipes. “I was fourteen when he took me to take a virginity test. He beat the ever loving hell out of me when he found out his little angel was deflowered.”

She leans closer, eyes turning softer, watery. “So I don’t need you lecturing me about shitty parents, Stevie,” she rasps. She looks around, makes sure no one can see, then reaches over and takes Stevie’s hand in hers. “I want _you._ I don’t want your parents’ approval and I don’t want your friends’ approval. Just you. Okay?”

Stevie squeezes on her hand, nodding. “Okay,” she whispers. “Okay.”

Billie lifts their hands to her lips, eyes not leaving her as she presses a kiss to Stevie’s knuckles, then she lets go.

“And if your dad— if it gets too bad, my doors are open,” Stevie says. “My parents wouldn’t mind a _friend_ sleeping over.”

Billie laughs, chucking her under the chin. “Cheeky.”

“One last thing,” Stevie worries her lip between her teeth. “My friends want to have a talk with you.”

“The _fuck her over we’ll fuck your face up_ talk?” Billie arches a brow. “If that’s the case, Maxine insists she talks to you as well, if your highness has time, that is.”

Stevie laughs, nodding. “Alright. I’ll see you later?”

“Later, baby girl. Wouldn’t want to miss class.”

Stevie stands up and strides past Billie, then comes to a stop and looks at her watch.

She bites her lip, thoroughly contemplating the importance of US History. Then she turns around and leans down into Billie’s ear. “Bathroom?”

Billie cocks a brow and turns her head to look at her. “I feel like I’m debauching you,” she murmurs between them.

“Told you I can do something _bad_ every once in a while,” Stevie’s eyes drop to Billie’s mouth. “And I do have a promise to fulfil.”

Billie swallows. “Ok,” she breathes. “Bathroom.”

**Author's Note:**

> im on [tumblr](https://inkedplume.tumblr.com) :)


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